Bella

I grabbed my keys and my cell phone to throw into my small black clutch when I felt my phone vibrate in my hand.

I flipped open the top, placing it securely between the left side of my chin and my collarbone as I slung my tan corduroy jacket over my right arm in haste. I bent down sideways to pick up a pair of modest black pumps sitting by the doorway with my left hand and proceeded to hop around as I pulled on one shoe at a time.

"Hi Alice. Are you here?" My voice was slightly breathless from the small aerobic workout securing my shoes onto my feet entailed.

"Bella! We just pulled up! Get your cute little butt downstairs!" Loud chatter filled the background preceding the sound of Alice hanging up the phone, not waiting for my response. Obviously she wasn't making a request but a command. I grabbed the small gift bag on the counter, wrapping the handles around my wrist, before heading out with everything else I was carrying on me.

Securing my apartment door behind me, I double-checked the lock before running down the hall carpeted stairway, as much as I could manage so in heels. I stopped right before I got to the stairwell to place my clutch between my legs draped my jacket over my shoulders. I knew that Alice would kill me if I ruined my black silk top with the rain that was undoubtedly falling outside.

With both hands, I grabbed onto the rail that was bolted to the wall as I attempted to descend the stairs with lightning speed. Unfortunately, my feet decided to act on their own accord as they slipped down the steps before the rest of my body, swooping up as I landed smack dab on my rear in a painful sprawl up and down the staircase. Luckily my hands still kept a steady grip on the railing, otherwise I would have slid all the way to the tile floor waiting for me at the bottom of the steps. Then I would have most likely had to spend the rest of the night in the emergency room, effectively ruining the bachelorette party I was supposed to throw for my friend.

When I finally reached the bottom safe and sound, I saw my reflection through the glass entryway a few feet in front of me. The headlights of the vehicle that had come to pick me up were shining through the raindrops and my transparent reflection. Pulling the few stray strands of hair into place and adjusting the hem of my shirt over my grey slacks, I braced myself for the rain outside and pushed open the heavy door.

I gasped out loud. "I should have known," I muttered under my breath.

Under the light sprinkling of rain, the lampposts illuminated the dark streets which already looked forlorn so early in the evening. The moon was out but only partially visible through the clouds. The sky was overcast and tinted navy blue.

All of this made the scene in the middle of the street that much more shocking.

Spanning at least 30 feet and parked awkwardly in right hand lane of the two-way street in front of my apartment building was a stark white 2008 H2 limousine. Music pumped through the speakers as if straight out of a downtown nightclub. A chauffer wearing a dark suit was standing next to the passenger door with both hands clasped in front of him, and proceeded to open the door as I approached the limousine.

The bass beats from inside the expansive vehicle blared and echoed through the rain on my dark street. An echo of blue and white lights swirled into the outside air, creating dancing prisms of light against the parked cars and reflections of the street signs, indicating that there must be some sort of disco ball rotating inside the limo.

I blushed as I noticed a couple walking their dog across the street were now standing and gaping at me as I made my way to the car door. I looked up and saw people blatantly staring at me from the apartment building across the street, leaning into their windows and shielding their eyes to better see me getting into the ostentatious car. I felt like I was at my high school prom all over again. I hated my high school prom.

I ducked my head, waving and muttering a quick "thank you" to the chauffeur as I climbed inside. Alice, Angela and Rosalie were waiting inside, each sprawled out across the smooth leather seats on either end of the aisle.

"Bella!" They collectively yelled though I could barely hear them over the blasting speakers. I made my way through the aisle to meet them, slightly hunched and disoriented from the strobe light that was indeed hanging from the roof over the center of the limo next to the sunroof. I attempted to swerve my torso around to avoid hitting it, but cringed when the globe clunked against the side of my head as I walked past it.

"Ow," I muttered as I rubbed the sore spot with my hand. I shook my head as the pain eased away and smiled at Angela. "Happy Bachelorette Party, Ang." I reached over to hug Angela as she cleared a spot between Alice and her for me to sit down.

"Thank you," Angela laughed. "Last weekend of freedom—Bella, please don't let everyone get me too hammered."

"Now, what kind of maid of honor would I be if I didn't get you good and drunk?!" I laughed at the look of sudden apprehension on Angela's face. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you," I assured with a smile. "Knowing Alice and Rosalie, you'll be drunk right up until your wedding next Saturday if they had their way. Just promise me that you'll return the favor when or if I ever get married."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Like you have anything to worry about, getting a man to marry you, but it's a deal," she said smiling at me and gave me a hug.

"What are you talking about?" Alice interrupted. I turned my attention to Alice and Rosalie who were both pouring champagne out of a dark green bottle into glass flutes they took from the side panels of the limo, which proceeded to spill everywhere but inside the glasses with the bumpy ride.

"I asked Bella to keep me safe from all the drinking you're going to make me do that will surely induce vomiting and me losing my memory," Angela explained as she took the two glasses of champagne Rosalie offered her and gave one to me.

Alice and Rosalie rolled their eyes.

"Please, Bella. At the end of tonight, you're not even going to remember your own name," Rosalie warned, taking a sip of her drink. "You and Angela both. We didn't rent this limo so you could go home sober."

"Yeah, speaking of which…" I looked at Alice. "Went a little overboard with the ride, don't you think?" I asked taking a sip from my own glass and nodding my head towards the disco ball which was starting to give me a case of vertigo. I knew I should have expected as much when Alice convinced me that hiring a chauffeur was the safest route in terms of not having to worry about a designated driver tonight, but I couldn't help but feel as if I owed her however much this get-up must have cost.

"Relax, grandma. I called in a favor, so this was totally free." She held up her hand to my mouth when she caught me open it in protest. "Why not go out in style? This is Angela's day, after all. Besides, this limo isn't so bad. Just be glad I didn't get the one with the spinning rims," she said giggling at me. "Now, will you please promise that you'll be fun tonight, and take off that god-awful jacket?"

I sighed in protest. She was right. I was always the party pooper, wasn't I? "I promise I'll try," I said in earnest. I realized she was still giving me an expectant look and I rolled my eyes as I shrugged out of my coat.

Alice grimaced. "We're going downtown, Bella, not to a funeral."

I looked down at my attire. "What? What else am I supposed to wear?" I was a little offended. I knew my sense in dress wasn't as keen as my fashion designer best friend's, but I thought I looked nice in my black silk shirt, grey pants, and black shoes…Okay, so maybe I did look like I was going to a funeral. But she had picked out this shirt on one of our many shopping excursions so I thought it would be safe.

Alice gave me a knowing smile as she brought to attention the large shopping bag in front of the partition behind the chauffeur. I groaned but reluctantly got up with her, the flute of champagne still in my hand, sloshing around when I plopped down beside the bag and next to Alice. I looked up at Angela and finally noticed that she looked a little more glammed up than I would have expected of her in a bright pink halter dress that complimented her light olive skin and dark hair. "She got to you, too?" I asked.

Angela gave me a sheepish smile from across the car. "Yeah. Apparently turtlenecks went out in 1995," she shrugged as she tugged at the hem of her knee length dress. "Ben just about flipped out when Rosalie sent him a picture of me with my camera phone." She blushed. "It was cute."

"Cute?" Rosalie scoffed. "He sent you one of the dirtiest text messages I've ever read. And that's saying something. Didn't know Ben had it in him, Ang. I knew you were marrying him for something," she said as she winked through another swig of champagne.

"Here." Alice threw a piece of fabric at me.

I unfolded it on my lap and frowned. "This is black. I thought you told me I looked like I was going to a funeral, and you give me another black shirt?" I held up the skimpy piece of cloth. It confounded me; I wasn't quite sure how it was supposed to go on.

"Yes, I know it's black. But the difference between the two shirts is the one you have on is ugly and looks like something you found at a nursing home, while this one is pretty and shiny and a Chanel!" Alice snatched the shirt from my hands as I was struggling with it, pushing it aside before she practically ripped my boring black blouse from pulling it over my head, exposing me in my beige bra. I knew that reminding her that she had picked out the shirt wouldn't do any good. It was probably bought in 1995 with Angela's turtleneck.

Alice wrinkled her face in disgust. "Ew." She shook her head. "Bella, Bella, Bella. God, you'd think after all these years of being my friend you would actually learn how to dress yourself." She sighed. "Well, you can't wear a bra with that shirt anyway; it's backless, so take it off." She rolled her eyes at my reluctance to strip in the middle of a moving vehicle. "What, are you embarrassed or something? Come on! We're almost at the restaurant. God forbid you go out in public with nothing but that hideous bra on."

I knew better than to disobey Alice when she was in her tiny dictator mode, so I reached behind me in an awkward attempt to unhook my bra, while simultaneously weaving my arms through the short sleeves of the sparkly shirt.

I finally had it on and I looked up at the girls. "Well?"

The catcalls commenced. I felt my face turn beet red and I wished I had a mirror at that moment. I looked up at the ceiling and saw a slightly distorted image of myself, but I couldn't help but notice how pleased I was at my reflection. The shirt fit like it was made for me, snug around my waist, but draped in all of the right places across my torso. The neck was cut straight across to make the reveal of my back that much more dramatic. I definitely wouldn't have gotten away with wearing a bra. One skinny strap was sewn from one end to the other on either side of my spine, securing my shirt from falling off completely. The fabric was thin, but lined, much to my relief. I was already paranoid about not wearing a bra in this Seattle weather.

"Okay…" Alice's expression was scrutinizing as she looked me up and down. "Those pants will not do." She shook her head.

"What's wrong with my pants? I wear these for teaching all the time."

"And therein lies reason number one." Alice shot me a look of disdain. "Clothes that you wear when you're wrangling sixth grade boys high on Mountain Dew and pixie sticks should not be synonymous to what you wear when on a drunken night of mayhem with your hot female friends." She threw a pair of jeans at me. "These should even the look out. The top is pretty dressy, so the jeans will tone it down."

I held out the pair of jeans in front of me, bringing them to my hips as I looked down. "These look way too small."

"They'll fit," Alice assured me. "We'll make them fit if we have to. And please don't insult me by telling me you're wearing granny panties."

I rolled my eyes.

"Alright, girls. I just got a text from Emmett. If I'm too incapacitated later tonight to remember this, you are all responsible for reminding me that I owe him a drunk dial." Rosalie plopped her cell phone back into her small gold clutch. Obviously, she didn't have to worry about Alice berating her on her outfit. Her ensemble was nothing less than signature Rosalie; black wide leg pants, pointed stilettos, and a bright red satin top that was extremely low cut. Her hair was swept to one side and loosely pinned back behind one ear. Once again I wondered how a plain Jane like me ended up being friends with Marilyn Monroe.

I unbuttoned my pants and shimmied out of my saggy grey teacher pants.

"Hold the phone!" Alice exclaimed in disbelief. "Thank the Lord, Bella is wearing a thong! Hope may not be lost after all!" She threw her hands up in the air and waved her fingers, the blinking lights illuminating on her face. "Hallelujah!" she sang.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Your faith in me is astounding," I muttered. I whipped out the jeans from Alice's stash of emergency designer clothes and proceeded to shove one leg inside at a time. I was right; they were too small. "Ah, crap. Alice, I told you these weren't going to fit."

"And I told you that we would make them fit." Alice's voice was determined as she came up to me, unashamedly placing her hands smack dab on the sides of my exposed ass as she gripped the belt of my jeans, and hoisted them upwards with as much strength as she could muster. "Ladies, a little help here, please?" she grunted.

I groaned as Rosalie and Angela rushed to my side, as if this wasn't humiliating enough. It was like trying to stuff a large turkey into a microwave.

Miraculously though, I was fully contained and zipped up a minute later. How I was going to manage to walk around in these, I wasn't sure.

Alice spoke as though she seemed to know what I was thinking. "They stretch."

"Apparently." I was practically lying down in a horizontal position, all capabilities of bending my legs had gone once I let myself become trapped in the denim.

A few minutes of this before I felt the limo slow to a stop and I looked outside. "Oh please tell me we're at the restaurant," I said somewhat attempting to sit up and stretch the jeans.

We were. Moments later, the chauffer parked the large limousine somehow, and we heard the clicks of the car before we saw the passenger door open by a white gloved hand.

"I wonder if anyone else is here yet," Angela mused as she stepped outside right behind me. She ducked her head with a blush of her cheeks as a group of young men walked by, heads completely turned towards the ladies exiting the ostentatious vehicle. I was grateful that I wasn't the only one uncomfortable with all of the attention. I knew Alice and Rosalie were used to it, so I didn't feel bad when I grabbed Angela's hand to drag her inside the restaurant with me before the other girls exited the car.

I took my phone out of my clutch as we entered the building, and saw that I had a few text messages. I read through them. "Jessica and Lauren are here. Tanya is on her way." I put my phone back and brought my head up just as the hostess, a college-aged young woman with blonde hair, made her way towards us with a bright smile on her face.

"Hi, we're the party of seven, under 'Angela,'" I informed the hostess.

"Right this way."

We followed her to a large table with four place settings on each side. The entire restaurant was dimly lit with an amber glow, low hanging chandeliers sporadically placed throughout. Jessica and Lauren were sitting next to each other on one side of the table in the middle of a conversation when we arrived.

Ugh. Just the sight of Lauren's thin platinum blonde hair plastered to her head made me want to vomit a little bit. Her face scrunched up into an expression that was probably supposed to resemble a smile, but lacked an ounce of anything genuine, so it looked nothing short of the face you make when you bite into a sour lemon.

Nevertheless, we all did the standard squeal and hug you did when you saw someone for the first time in years. I was glad to see Jessica, despite the fact that she was one of those good friends that you could never truly trust in high school. Trust sweet Angela to actually want to keep in touch with these people for so long.

"Oh my god, Bella. You look great!" Jessica gushed. Her bubbly enthusiasm hadn't changed a bit.

"Thanks," I muttered through the blush rising in my cheeks. The look of contempt from Lauren only became clearer as she surveyed my appearance. I made sure to take the seat farthest away from her as possible.

"Where did you get that shirt? It's to die for!" Jessica continued. "And Angela, wow, that dress is amazing!"

We both blushed as we pushed ourselves into our seats. Thankfully, Alice and Rosalie were making their way to our table, and I took the opportunity to change the subject.

"Jessica, Lauren, this is Alice and Rosalie." I gestured with my hand, respectively. "We met Alice in college, and Rosalie and Alice went to high school together," I explained. The look of intimidation was written all over Lauren and Jessica's face as they stared at Alice and Rosalie who both looked like they stepped out of the cover of In Style magazine. "Jessica and Lauren both went to high school with Angela and me," I explained to Alice and Rosalie.

"Oh, it's so nice to meet you!" Alice reached out her tiny hand to Jessica, who seemed overwhelmed by the woman who seemed to have more energy than she did. She similarly did so to Lauren, who reluctantly held her hand out to shake. "Don't Angela and Bella look amazing? I stocked up on my last trip to New York, and I'm so glad I did. Designer outfits just always look so much better, don't they?"

Jessica was in awe. Lauren couldn't seem to erase the permanent grimace on her face as she looked at my shirt for the second time. "It's designer?" She raised her eyebrow.

Alice missed the cutting tone in Lauren's voice, only nodding her head excitedly. "Yes, of course. Only the best for my friends. They look great, don't they?" She looked as if she expected Lauren to agree.

Lauren shrugged her shoulders as she glanced my way. "Yeah," she admitted unwillingly.

A laugh almost escaped me as Rosalie gave me a knowing look. Rosalie was never good at hiding her true emotions, especially when it came to people she didn't like. I couldn't help but be delighted in the fact that she definitely didn't like Lauren already.

The dinner went along smoothly. Tanya, Angela's cousin, came a few minutes later, and the same round of introductions commenced. She seemed nice enough, but judging by her wavy strawberry blond hair, chic black mini-dress, and the way that she flirted with the guy filling our glasses of water, she was one of those girls who was used to being the center of attention. Imagine the look on her face when the guy with the water pitcher winked at Rosalie.

Rosalie smirked. Tanya was livid.

Luckily, I had enough cocktails to remove myself from the silent cat fight.

Oops. Maybe I had one too many.

After a couple of hours of small talk and consumed entrees of calamari, grilled chicken, and lean cuts of steak, I was having the time of my life and we were ready to go. My buzz was kicking into full gear.

I burst into laughter as I stumbled onto Alice's small frame.

"Yay! We're going to get fun Bella tonight!" Alice exclaimed as she jumped up and down.

"Woo! Fun Bella!" I pumped my fist in the air as I kicked the door open with my foot. "Oh my gosh, I'm so excited, you guys! Angela! I have a present for you inside the limo. Let's go inside the limo! Jess, Lauren, Tanya! Wanna ride in the limo with us? We have reservations to go to the piano bar down the street. It's gonna be so much fun! Come on!" I waved my hand over to the stretch hummer that had found its way in front of the restaurant again. "Come on, come on, come on!" I waved them over frantically, not caring that Alice, Rosalie, and Angela had highly amused looks on their faces, whereas Tanya, Jessica, and Lauren showed expressions of uncertainty.

"No really, girls, you should come with. The limo driver will even take you home if you're worried about having too much to drink tonight. You can just leave your cars in the parking lot," Alice persuaded them. Soon enough we were inside the large vehicle, and I wasted no time opening the sun roof, not caring about the light sprinkling of rain still coming down on my face.

The limo was commencing down the road and I didn't care about the handful of stares we got as Rosalie and Alice joined me through the hole of the sunroof, dancing to the grinding beats of Busta Rhymes. I never danced like this unless I was completely drunk…something about alcohol gave me the illusion that I was a reincarnate of someone from a Missy Elliot music video.

Angela was always amused by this behavior from me, especially from knowing me as long as she had. I guess befriending Alice and Rosalie helped bring out that side in me even more.

Jessica and Lauren were both looking on with pure shock, probably due to the fact that I avoided parties and school dances like the plague in high school and I literally didn't have my first drink until my junior year of college.

We got em hot in this bitch, so throw the water on em

We got em hot in this bitch, so throw the water on em…

The song was over by the time we reached Singin' in the Rain. It was a piano bar that Esme recommended to me when I asked her if she knew of any fun places downtown where we could go for Angela's bachelorette party. Apparently it was voted "Best Ladies Night Out" in some local magazine. It sounded like fun; dueling pianos, buckets of booze, and fun music. We had reservations, so they were also supposed to set us up with a fun little party hat for Angela and other favors, I supposed.

After we got past the line to get in, we were seated to the right of the stage. , I immediately felt a little claustrophobic—this place was packed. It was smoky inside, and fairly intimate for such a large space. Two grand pianos faced each other on the small stage, which were each occupied by a man and a microphone. The establishment set aside two small round tables for our party, adorned with handfuls of ticker tape and plastic cups surrounding a bucket of ice with a bottle of cheap champagne inside.

Hold me closer, tiny dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen

You had a busy day today

All 300 or so people in the bar were singing boisterously along to the men on stage. The closer we got to our tables I was able to obtain a better look at the men behind the pianos. Surprisingly, they were both relatively young, pounding away effortlessly on the keys, necks straining slightly as they belted into their respective microphones. They were kind of cute, I guess. One of the guys had spiky blond hair, dressed like someone who just spent hours shopping at the Gap. I could practically see the price tags still intact. The other was a bit older, with shaggy dirty blonde hair and a look on his face like he just had anonymous sex in the bar's unisex restroom.

Women (who were much further gone than I was in the drunk department) were "dancing" in the empty space in front of the stage. It looked more like they were dry humping to me. The number of tiaras and bridal veils indicated that we weren't the only ones here for a bachelorette party.

"Here!" I picked up the paper crown on cheap satin slash that said "Bride-to-be" and tossed it in Angela's direction. She hesitantly put on the sash and set the crown on top of her head before we all burst out laughing.

"What?" Angela asked, confusion showing on her face. She took it off and noticed that the high point of the crown was shaped more like…a particular male organ. She blushed and set it down on the table.

"Oh, come on, Angela!" Rosalie picked up the crown and attempted to place it back on Angela's head. "It's your bachelorette party! It's your God given right to show off your inner skank, however small she may be in there."

Angela laughed as she shrugged her shoulders. "Alright, alright!" She crossed her arms, the blush still covering her cheeks, but she had a good-natured smile on her face as she accepted the phallic symbol adorning the makeshift tiara on top of her head.

A waiter came by with a pad of paper and pen. "Good evening, ladies. Is this your first time at Singin' in the Rain?" he asked. He had an off-beat look to him; motorcycle boots, black jeans, a black t-shirt sporting the bar logo, and black eyeliner surrounding his stunning blue eyes. His hair was buzzed into a short Mohawk, and his face was a little reminiscent of Charlie from the TV show Lost.

When we told him that this was everyone's first time, he smiled and pointed to the small slips of paper resting on the center of each table. "Write your song requests on the yellow pieces of paper and bring it up on stage when you have one written down. They know almost everything. And a little piece of advice: the bigger the tip, the sooner they'll play your song," he advised with a wink.

The Charlie look-a-like left soon after taking our drink orders and we turned our attention back to the pianos.

"Ah….let's see…." The guy with the spiky blond hair was weeding through the song requests. We could see various dollar bills in different amounts and quantities poking through the folded pieces of paper. Occasionally he would take one out and crumple it in his hand before chucking it across the stage. "That's one's shit…no…no…Ah! Here's a good one!" He cleared his throat into the microphone. "This one goes out to all of the horny ladies in the crowd…."

The screams were deafening.

He continued. "When you're all alone at night with no man to give you what you need, we want to let you know…there's nothing wrong with touching yourself."

He played the intro to "I Touch Myself" by the Divinyls, and before I knew it, I was sipping on a Sex on the Beach through a thin black straw and standing in front of my chair, swaying my hips to the music, my free hand roaming across my chest and down my body.

"Come on!" Alice pulled me away from my seat, pleading me and Rosalie to dance in the middle of the small crowd that was growing bigger in front of the stage.

Oh God, where are we? I could smell the sex in the air…I felt like we walked into an orgy of half-debilitated men and women lost in the land of booze as they gyrated their hips to their imaginary partners in the air, dancing to their miscalculated beats, the women not even realizing (or maybe not caring) that their breasts were dangerously close to completely popping out of their tube tops or low cut shirts.

Despite the tinge of disgust I felt, I was still pretty hammered myself and in no place to judge anyone at the moment. I was just glad that my puppies were secure in my sparkly Chanel top. If I was even the tiniest bit more sober I would surely be self-conscious of the numerous stares I was getting from the men in the crowd who were leaning into each other, whispering, and pointing at my ass in my super tight jeans. Good thing sober left me a long time ago.

As the song came to an end, I caught the eye of the guy with the spiky blonde hair. He winked at me.

I had to hold onto Alice to make it back to my seat without eating shit on the ground. I tried to ignore the scrutinizing expressions from Jessica and Lauren as they sat still in their seats, deliberately sipping slowly on their own cocktails, as if to prove to me that they were women of a different, classier breed. Good thing I was too drunk to care.

"Where's Tanya?" I asked Angela.

She looked around for a minute and then nodded her head towards the bar across the room. Tanya looked quite at home talking to some guy standing next to the high bar top. From what I could see, he was tall and lanky, with a messy array of bronze hair on top of his head. His back was to me, so I couldn't see his face, but the white collared shirt fit snugly across his back and indicated a man who knew his way around the gym. He was leaning against the bar with one hand, and the other was in his pocket, his rolled up sleeves showing off the perfect tendons of his toned forearms even from fifty feet away.

I watched as he pulled his hand out of his pocket to bring it up to run his fingers through his hair. His shirt lifted up and I saw a sliver of skin showing above the dark jeans that sat low on his hips, covering his perfectly round butt….

"Bella! Earth to Bella!"

I shook my head and registered the small hand waving frantically in my face. "Sorry, what?"

"We want to request a song for Angela while she's in the bathroom. What song do you think we should request?" Alice was tapping her pen on the top of the small round table, looking at me in anticipation.

I shrugged.

Luckily, I didn't have to think about it long before Rosalie spoke up.

"I got it!" she exclaimed, feverishly jotting something down on the yellow slip of paper before bolting out of her seat.

"'Barbie Girl?' Are you fucking kidding me? Do we look like fucking pussies to you?" The guy on stage with the shaggy hair was spewing insults at the audience, apparently for requesting a song that questioned his masculinity. I snorted. Obviously this was an establishment that prided itself on its crude and lude environment.

"Don't insult us by requesting that Aquamarine, Britney Spears shit," he scoffed. "Alright," he threw the handful of requests on top of the grand piano and flexed his fingers. "Let's play some Journey, shall we—well, hello!" He purred into the microphone just as Rosalie stepped up the platform of the stage. "I'm James, what's your name, sweetie?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes, placing the song request gingerly down on the piano stand with a folded up twenty dollar bill. "Just play the song, sweetie." She smirked as she sashayed back to our table, brushing off the numerous whistles from the men in the audience.

"Alright, only because I'm hoping you'll give me a BJ later," he said with a wink. More "ooh's" and catcalls from the audience sprinkled the air as James read the slip of paper. "Oh okay… may I have Angela to the stage please? Angela? If you're anything like your friend in the red shirt, my dick is going to punching out of my pants in a second, here."

We turned excitedly to Angela who instantaneously looked like a deer in headlights. She shook her head madly, pleading with us not to make her go up on stage.

"Go on, Ang," Alice encouraged.

Angela looked at me with terror in her eyes, and I felt pity for her. Of course, I could relate to what she was dealing with; she was the only person I knew who was shyer than I was. In an act of determination, being a good maid-of-honor, and falling victim to the alcohol in my system (I lost count of how many cocktails I had exactly), I grabbed Angela's phallic crown and placed it on top of my head. "I'm Angela!"

"God damn it." James looked me up and down, seduction laced in his eyes. He looked back down at the piece of paper. "Angela is getting married next weekend, and tonight is her bachelorette party. Everyone say, 'Congratulations, Angela!'" He paused as the audience echoed his demand.

"Angela, why don't you sit on up here?" He patted at the large flat space on top of the piano. I sauntered up the stage, waving away the whistles and vulgar comments from the crowd before I turned my back to the piano and lifted myself up as gracefully as one could when intoxicated. My breath hitched unexpectedly as I watched James remove himself from his piano bench and walked over to where I was. "Now, a beautiful woman like you, where the hell is your fiancée, and why isn't he with you?" I opened my mouth to respond, but he interrupted me before I could. "Oh, I know where he is." He had a sly smile as he winked at me, not so subtly placing one very toned and tanned arm around my waist and rested on my bare back. My heart knew he was an asshole, but my body only knew that he was insanely hot and I was insanely drunk. "He's at a strip club, getting a blow job from a fake blonde with bigger boobs," he barked.

I rolled my eyes.

"Okay, well we need to give Angela a proper send off before she signs her life away, not to mention her sex life. Better hope one of your friends bought you a vibrator. Once you chain a man down, he's gonna wanna look for his pussy somewhere else. Am I right, fellas?" A number of men whooped and hollered.

I was getting really annoyed with his so-called playful banter. I leaned back on the piano with my hands and shot James a look of boredom. I let my legs swing off the edge playfully.

"I think you're destroying Angela's buzz, James," the guy with the spiky blonde hair warned into the microphone. I looked over and gave him a grateful smile. He winked at me again.

"Shut up, Mike," James retorted. He retreated back to his bench. He turned his attention back to the waiting audience. "We're going to sing a song to Angela…. Now should we sing her a nice, pretty song that will make her feel all warm and fluttery inside?" He cupped his ear as he awaited the audience response.

"NO!" The audience's decision was unanimous.

"Or should we sing a song that's perverted…and dirty?"

"Hell yes! Down and dirty!" Apparently, this was a regular mantra of the Singin' in the Rain crowd, because the chant was loud and crystal clear.

"Down and dirty it is," James crooned with a mischievous smile. "So, Mike, you heard 'em. They want it down and dirty, so get your pussy ass off the bench and make room for someone who can handle it," he joked.

I was a little annoyed with how Mike seemed to be pushed around, but he didn't seem to be bothered by it. He just rolled his eyes and got off the bench, taking his cellphone off the piano and placing it in his pocket.

"Mike Newton, ladies and gentlemen. Give him a hand," James instructed to a round of applause as Mike waved and nodded his head at the audience. James took a quick swig of his water bottle before placing the cap back on and setting it down on the floor next to him. "Now Angela, as much as I'd like to have you all to myself when I sing this song, I'm afraid I need some help. Everyone give a round of applause to someone who definitely likes it down and dirty….Eddie, come on up."

Oh God.

The women in the audience were screaming like David Beckham just walked into the room. A pair of smoldering green eyes were floating their way towards me, stopping my breath completely. A playful smirk graced his lips, revealing an arrogance about him that reminded me a little bit of James. I recognized him immediately by his hair. It was the same man Tanya was talking to earlier.

If I was nervous before, I was positively trembling now. The effect the alcohol was having on me was definitely not helping. The hot lights were making me feel flushed, and I was sure a light layer of sweat was coating my face at the moment.

"So…Eddie. What song do we sing to a woman who's getting married in a week?" James asked across the stage.

I looked over as Eddie sat himself down and adjusted the bench in front of the piano before switching out the microphone for his own. "She's getting married? God damn it. Why are all the hot ones taken?" He stared at me with an intensity that rocked me to the core. I fought the shiver threatening to escape up my spine. Of course, this was the typical thing they said to all of the women they brought up on stage. I was no different, I reminded myself. I reminded my drunken self.

James snickered. "Exactly what I was thinking, man."

"Well I have the perfect song," Eddie said into the microphone, the deep timbre of his voice amplified through the PA system, giving me chills with the reverberations of his speech. "Angela…when you are lying down on your bed, in your honeymoon suite, legs entangled with your husband's… naked… and sweaty, wondering, 'Can life get any better than this?' The day will come when you'll find yourself wanting to rub one out because your husband can't get it up. And Angela, if that day ever comes…when that day comes, I want you to think of me, singing this song." He smirked at me as his lips caressed the microphone.

Why don't we do it in the road

Why don't we do it in the road

Why don't we do it in the road

Why don't we do it in the road

No one will be watching us

Why don't we do it in the road

The words were less than profound and more than barbaric. Maybe it was the alcohol possessing me yet again, or maybe the alcohol was merely letting my inner beast out, something that I didn't even know was there. I didn't know what came over me, but I crawled towards him. My cock hat fell off, and I threw it off the stage. My butt in the air, clawing at the piano like a cat on the prowl, I made my way closer and closer, until I was right in front of him. He smiled at something. I only realized later that he probably got a good look down my shirt, but at that moment, I didn't realize, nor did I care. I raised my arms up and knelt before him, my knees level with his eyes as he continued to sing and play.

Why don't we do it in the road

Why don't we do it in the road

No one will be watching us

Why don't we do it in the road

When he hit the high falsetto, females and males alike were cheering and I found myself screaming out loud in praise. His eyes were half-lidded when he licked his lips and bent his head down for a hard-hitting piano solo.

The crowd roared, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw that people were dancing with reckless abandon next to and in front of the tables and stage.

I swayed my hips with my hands clenched through my hair, biting my lip as he continued his crooning. His voice was like velvet and I was drawn to it. Soon enough, my lips were pressed to the other side of his microphone, exchanging hot breaths through the repeated lyric, singing and screaming the guttural "No one we'll be watching us" before shaking our heads down as we sang the rest of the verse.

"Woo!" Eddie clunked the chords in a flourish as he ended the song. "Angela, your fiancée is one lucky man." He reached around him to pull out what looked like two long strips of paper. Upon closer inspection, I realized they were stickers. "We've got a nice little souvenir for you, to remember us by." He held them up for the audience to see. "You get two of them. One for your car. One for you." I watched, slightly confused, as he peeled off the backing of one of the stickers. "Now here's the important question, Angela. Front or rear?"

I didn't comprehend the question. I looked at my table for the first time since I approached the stage and they were all grinning from ear to ear, amused expressions painted on their faces. Well, all of them except for Lauren and Tanya.

In the shade out of the spotlight, I was able to make out Alice calling out my attention. She pointedly gestured to her chest and her butt, repeating the action, until it clicked.

Oh. My front or rear bumper. "Rear?" I questioned. I guess that was my answer.

Eddie smirked. "I like a girl who takes it from behind." The crowd whistled and catcalled again. I was about to step down, but I was interrupted.

"No, no, no, Angela." James shook his head. "I know for a fact that Eddie has a fantasy of taking someone on top of a piano. You might be the lucky girl who can make his dream come true." He chuckled, taking another swig from his water bottle.

"Bend over, baby. This will be a good story to tell your fiancé when he comes home tonight with his face covered in cum."

My eyes widened, but I did as I was told. If I was sober to any extent, I would have been as red as a tomato. But I wasn't sober. I definitely wasn't sober. I laughed as I crouched on the piano on all fours, and feigned shock as I put one hand to my mouth, looking back at Eddie who was still behind me. Alice and Rosalie gave me a thumbs-up sign, while Angela covered her laughter behind her hands. Jessica was even laughing, but Lauren sat back, her eyes practically rolling in the back of her head with disgust. Tanya was livid.

Jealous, much? I thought to myself, my mouth twisted up slightly.

I looked back as Edward stood up. The sticker was peeled and placed delicately between his fingers. He wasted no time when he slapped it on my ass, causing me to yelp.

He laughed, walking over to help me down from the piano. "Sorry, I thought you might like it a little rough," he whispered.

I gulped. "You don't know what I like," I responded meekly.

"Oh, don't I?" he raised his eyebrow as he walked back to his piano. "Let's give a round of applause to Angela, everybody," he said into his microphone, taking his seat back down on the bench.

I held onto the piano as I bent down in a weak curtsy, shooting my finger at James in a thank you as I sauntered in a sloppy dance off the stage. He laughed and winked at me, mimicking my gesture with his fingers. "Don't forget your sticker, baby. Unless you want this one on your front bumper." He garnered a wickedly mischievous smile on his face as I trekked back towards the stage, snatching the white bumper sticker out of his waiting hand. I narrowed my eyes at him slightly, but was not quite able to fight the flirtatious smile curling up on the corners of my mouth.

As I turned back to look at the sticker, I was able to read it more carefully: "Shut Up and Sing! Because Otherwise We're Just Playing With Ourselves…" Clever.

Alice's eyes were as wide as saucers when I plopped back down in my seat. I was starting to feel dizzy.

"What. The. Fuck. Was. That?"

"What?" I replied, hoping my expression was innocent enough.

"What?" she said in a mocking tone. "You and Hottie One and Hottie Two sharing an orgasmic experience in front of 300 people, that's what. God, Bella, I know that you're drunk off your ass right now, but I have never seen you act like that. Never." She shook her head. "Damn. I wanted to make out with you myself.'

I burst out laughing, but the laughter was short-lived when I felt a shooting pain in my head when I hit it on the back of my chair. "Ouchie."

"Okay, maybe we should get you home," Rosalie suggested.

"No, this is Angela's party. I want to stay," I insisted. I shot a look of apology at Angela who smiled back at me in comfort. "I'm sorry I'm so drunk."

Angela laughed it off. "Eh, don't worry about it. I'm just grateful that you took the fall for me up there. I don't know what I would have done if I was up there. You handled it like a champ, drunk and all. And I don't know about anyone else, but I swear those guys had a crush on you."

I rolled my eyes and waved my hand in a dramatic gesture. "Whatever. They're paid to flatter their customers. And may I bring up the fact that they think my name is Angela and I'm getting married next week," I reminded her with a pointed finger.

I looked down and realized a few new items in front of me than were there before. At the center of each of our tables, rested a large plastic bucket filled with a pink tinted liquid, ice, and four plastic straws. My eyes were cross-eyed as I examined the straws more closely.

"Hey!" I exclaimed. "These look like—"

"Cock straws," Rosalie finished for me, pulling out one of the peach colored straws and started sucking on the bulbous tip. "Much smaller than the real thing, but I'm sure that you'd know that by now. Or, at least, I hope you do. Hey, maybe James or Eddie can give you a little educational experience," Rosalie suggested with a nudge of her elbow.

"Shut up. I know what a cock looks like," I retorted. I grabbed a straw extending from the bucket with the tip of my thumb on forefinger on one hand and took a sip of the drink. "Holy shit," I coughed out. "That tastes like pure vodka." I grimaced.

"Yeah, they're horrible aren't they?" A male voice spoke softly into my ear, and I whipped my head around. James gave me a cocky grin, unfazed by our sudden close proximity. "You mind if I sit down?" he asked, pulling out the empty chair next to me, waiting for my answer.

I shook my head, dumbfounded that he was sitting down. Guys like him weren't supposed to be interested in girls like me unless they thought they were getting something.

Maybe that was it.

If I wasn't so drunk, I might have had a problem with that.